


Bandages

by HoodieGirlSP



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Bandages, F/M, Platonic Relationship, Romantic Relationship, Self-Harm, Wrists, can be seen as platonic or romantic, flokase, fukaflower, jokester fukase, kuudere flower, vocaloid meme squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodieGirlSP/pseuds/HoodieGirlSP
Summary: Within their friend circle, only two of them wear bandages on their arms. Not like the others have to know what’s under them, anyway.TRIGGER WARNING: suicide, self-harm, mentions of depression and anxiety
Relationships: flower/Fukase (Vocaloid)
Kudos: 29





	1. Part 1

It was red.

Red on her wrists. Red on her fingers. Red on her blade. 

Red in his hair. Red in his eyes. **Red in his glare.**

… Flower should’ve known that this would catch up with her eventually.

~~~~~

_She was being awfully quiet._

Those words had been ringing through Fukase’s head for the whole afternoon now. In the midst of the living room, where their roommates and neighbours had gathered for a casual hangout session, while Oliver was chatting with Rin and Len and Piko was talking with his older sister Miki and the ever popular diva Miku, he could only focus on her lithe figure as she sat on the sofa, her violet eyes staring at the floor and her fingers brushing against each other from time to time, including across her wrists.

As much as he tried to engage with the conversations around him, the redhead couldn’t help but notice her reluctance to talk with anyone. It wasn’t too unusual that the kuudere didn’t want to talk but…

Something was just… off about it. Fukase couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, though. That was bugging him.

“And then Fukase, you said… HEY!” A high-pitched yet masculine voice snapped Fukase back to his senses and he turned his head to the source of the noise; a young man with silver shoulder length hair accompanied a ‘P’-shaped ahoge and heterochromatic eyes of turquoise and green. They narrowed at the man in question as the owner of the voice continued. “Fuka, were you spacing out again?”

The redhead scratched his head bashfully. “Uhhh…. No?”

“Fukase, you’re a better jokester than a liar,” The teenage girl standing next to him shook her head in disappointment, her fuchsia-coloured hair trailing behind her while her question mark-shaped ahoge bounced in the air. “Seriously though, you’ve been staring into space for a while now. Are you okay?”

“Haha,” He chuckled as an opportunity for a little fun came to mind. “Wow, I can’t believe that the girl who ‘has the greatest affinity to space’ is telling me that _I’m_ spacing out,”

At the sound of his poorly made pun, the final girl in their circle smacked a hand against her forehead, her turquoise twintails trailing behind her as she shook her head. “For Yamaha’s sake, Fukase, that doesn’t even make any sense,”

“Hey, those are _my_ creators you’re talking about, not yours, Miku!” He retorted, a little ticked off that she didn’t appreciate the joke. 

“Quite frankly, if they didn’t exist, neither would I!”

“Miku, Fukase, calm down…” Piko held a hand out on both sides of the conversation, trying to keep the duo from getting into another heated debate. “We don’t need to start another squabble in here…”

And from there, the afternoon continued as jovially as it started; Fukase would dramatically quip at something, Miku would reply back with something just as dramatic, Piko would try to keep the duo apart (it was a miracle that his sanity hadn’t been lost yet) and Miki would eventually get so tired of the conversation that she’d try to chat with Rin, Len and Oliver instead. It was just your usual casual, chaotic hangout session.

Though at the back of Fukase’s mind, the thought from before still remained. It probably stayed in his head because of the noticeable lack of something in the conversation that afternoon.

More specifically, the curt and deadpan nature of the person Fukase was worried about.

~~~~~

He couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t.

As he shuffled in his bed and rubbed his eyes for the upteenth time that night (and being ESPECIALLY careful about his left eye, mind you-), his mind kept replaying the scenes in his head. How she had been so quiet this afternoon. How she had been rubbing her fingers and wrists over and over again. How she brushed off anyone who tried to speak with her (including him) and soon enough, excused herself back to her room for the day. How she barely said anything beyond ‘Sorry, but I’m a little tired. Please excuse me.’

In the tense atmosphere of the room that followed after she left, Fukase, Piko and Oliver were all worried for her. Their roommate hadn’t been this distant until the day she started working at CeVIO and even straight after the first few weeks, she had been fine, still chatting with them and giving snarky remarks to Fukase’s jokes. The signs of her slowly falling behind their conversations or even talking with them at all had been gradual to appear, but the redhead had long drawn up some suspicions of what was going on.

And _that_ … was why he couldn’t sleep. Because he didn’t want his suspicions to be true.

“Dammit,” He muttered to himself in frustration as he threw the covers off of his body, sitting up on his bed as his fingers ran through his head. No way was he gonna be able to sleep like this. Not when he was so worried.

Meanwhile, in the drawer-turned-bed at his bedside table, a little cloud-coloured figure poked its head out of the covers, its eyes blinking at the redhead as if it was expecting an answer. “Sorry, buddy,” He apologised sheepishly as his right hand patted the little doll’s head. “I just can’t sleep tonight. Think I’ll go get some water or something. You can head back to bed,”

He lifted his hands from Point’s head as he threw on a loose long-sleeved shirt over his singlet and sweatpants, preparing himself to pay a visit to the kitchen. However, instead of listening to its master, the doll pushed away its blanket with its pudgy hands, soon crawling up the bedside table to face Fukase, its hands on its hips.

“Point, you can go back to bed, I mean it,” The young man insisted, shaking his head. He hated when his pet wouldn’t listen to him, but it was part-and-parcel of owning one, he knew. “I’m just gonna get a drink and it’s not gonna be beer, I swear. Just some water and then I’ll go to sleep, okay?”

Point still wouldn’t move, its arms stuck on its hips as it blinked at him again. If it weren’t for the fact that its face was unable to express its emotions or that Point was a literal doll in shape and size, Fukase would have been face-to-face with a stern parent scolding him for evading his bed time.

“Dude… Fine, you can come with me, is that better?” The teeenager ended up using the only trump card he had that could sway Point’s ‘parental vibes’ and only then did the doll drop its arms and jump on the spot. In other words, it was satisfied with Fukase’s offer.

He sighed as he leaned close to the bedside table, allowing the doll to hop onto his right shoulder and sit there to hitch a ride. It seemed to be a habit that Point had culminated over the years; as it grew more and more attached to Fukase, it started to worry more and more about his well-being like a mother or father would. And just like any mother or father would treat their child, Point hated to have Fukase out of its sight for long. It sounded like a hassle, but truthfully, the teen didn’t mind Point accompanying him that night.

As the redhead stepped out of his bedroom, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and slowly walked down the hallway, the darkness seeming to last forever. A quiet yet serene silence occupied the house as its other three residents were sleeping soundly, the only noise coming from Fukase’s footsteps as he advanced to the kitchen.

Of course, he couldn’t get there without passing by the bathroom. And that was when something interrupted the quietness of their home.

A clear but slightly muffled grunt. Coming from the door on his left. From the bathroom.

He raised an eyebrow at the sound, his eyes looking towards the ground and now noticing a thin line of pale yellow light from the other side of the door. Who the hell would be in there this late? And more importantly, _why_ were they-

Oh no.

“Uhh…” Fukase accidentally blurted out loud as soon as he realised what could be going on. Unfortunately for him, it was enough to alert the person inside and soon enough, another startled voice entered the quietness of the night.

“W-Who’s there?” Fukase didn’t have to think twice about who that voice belonged to. Medium pitched, androgynous, lack of a British accent… who else could it be?

“It’s Fukase,” He replied quickly, not wanting to leave her imagining whoever was outside. “Flower, is that you in there?”

He heard her hitch a short gasp for a moment before composing herself. “Y-yeah, sorry, do you need to use the bathroom?”

He shook his head. “No, but…” _Be cool, Fukase. Don’t make her think you’re suspecting her_. “Are you okay in there?”

His question was soon replied by the bathroom door opening slowly, revealing Flower standing in front of him, her snow white hair shining under the bathroom light and the single strand of black hair standing out more than usual. Even though she held her head down, the redhead easily spotted the dark bags under her eyes and the paleness of her lips. Heck, they almost matched the shades of her monochromatic nightclothes. What was going on?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” She replied nervously, bringing Fukase’s attention back to her tired and fatigue ridden face. “Anyway, what are you doing up so late, Fukase?”

A warning light was already going off in his head.

Never, not even once, did Flower ever call him by his full name. 

It was always either ‘Fuka’ or ‘Fuckass’, but never just ‘Fukase’. _Something is definitely wrong_.

“Eh, the usual insomniac reason,” He replied with a shrug, praying that the look in his eyes did not reflect the worry that was bubbling in his chest. “Can’t sleep, so Imma get a drink and hopefully, that’ll knock me out,”

“You wanna get knocked out by a drink?” Flower narrowed her eyes at him, seeming to return to her usual deadpan reactions to him, though Fukase was still uncertain of it. “Don’t you remember the last time that happened?”

He chuckled as she reminded him. “Yes, and no I’m not gonna get drunk and then sleep it off. Point’s here this time, so no alcohol,” At the mention of its name, the little white doll waved at Flower gleefully, to which she returned its gesture with a small wave back.

_Hold on. Her hands, those-_

“Well, I won’t get in the way of your ‘insomniac’ ritual,” The teen trailed off as she began to step away from Fukase, slowly trotting back to her room. “Just don’t go overboard and end up sleeping in the kitchen this time or else Oliver’s gonna-”

**“Flower, wait,”**

She immediately halted in her footsteps at the sound of his voice. She almost couldn’t recognise his tone… Deep and firm and… uncharacteristically serious.

_No… He couldn’t have…_

As she digested the realisation she just had, the teenaged boy behind her spun around, his body now facing hers as they stood in the empty hallway. There was a momentary silence before Fukase spoke slowly, emphasising on each word. “Flower,” He began, the tone in his voice confident and full of conviction. _Looks like my hunch was right after all…_

“Give me your hand,”

… _Shit._


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to see how Fukase will react to Flower's red-stained bandages...

“Uh, what?”

She tried so hard to fake a confused tone, though by the looks of his expression, it was obvious that she had failed. Even in the dimness of the hallway, it was clear that Fukase had his eyes trained on her, the red hues in them appearing darker than usual. Coupling that with his serious tone did _not_ help Flower feel any better.

“Flower, give me your hand,” He repeated the same sentence as before in the same monotonous tone, now holding his left hand, his _bandaged_ hand up, for Flower to place hers in. Normally, she’d curtly reject such an otherwise flirtatious advance.

But under his piercing gaze that was strange and completely new to her, she realised that it was too difficult for her to say no.

_I’ve been caught already. I might as well not rub salt on the wound._

Knowing that running away would only draw more suspicion to her, Flower steadily lifted her left hand for Fukase to see, the state of it clearer in his eyes now that it was in the light. It was just as he had thought it looked like; long white pieces of cloth hastily wrapped around her left wrist, forming a tall and relatively thick arm cover that extended up to her elbow. It wasn’t thick enough to hide the fresh, scarlet red splotches of blood near the wrist region, however.

As the redhead inspected her hand, Flower was thrown into an internal panic. Curse her for being so careless and letting out that grunt of pain. Curse her for not turning off the light immediately after she left the bathroom. If she had been more careful in everything that she did, he wouldn’t have noticed her reddened bandages so quickly. Heck, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed her at all. Then she wouldn’t have to mentally prepare herself for a dreadfully long lecture or freak-out session from the loud and usually chaotic prankster who’d probably ask her why she was-

“Head back to your room,”

_Huh?_

His words caught her by surprise, her violet eyes widening as they settled into her head. “What?” was all Flower could whisper as she lifted her gaze from the ground to the boy in front of her again. Despite him being slightly shorter than her by a few centimetres, the expression on his face made her suddenly feel smaller than him.

His eyes sparked a mixture of concern and sternness as the redhead continued. “Flower, just go back to your room and calm down. I’ll help you change your bandages,”

_Excuse me?_ To say that she was confused was an understatement. How… Why wasn’t he…

He wasn’t freaking out? About the red spots on her bandages? **Why wasn’t he freaking out??**

Even though there were a billion things that she wanted to say to him, the white-haired teen eventually nodded in reply, her head hung low as she trudged her feet back to her room. As she sat down on her unmade and messy bed again and her fingers instinctively rubbed against her bloody bandages once more, she kept thinking of the possible reasons for what happened earlier. 

She just couldn’t get it out of her head; why in the world did Fukase not freak out when he saw her like that? Why didn’t he say anything that resembled a worried question or a concerned comment? Flower had expected him to be angry at her. She expected him to be questioning her. She expected him to burst out in shock as soon as he realised that she was cutting. But he didn’t…

_Why?_

“Flower, you in there?” A voice, his voice, coming from the other side of her bedroom door pulled her back to reality, startling her slightly. “Y-Yeah…” She uncharacteristically stuttered as the door swung open and Fukase stepped in, muttering a quiet ‘excuse me’ while clutching a white box in his left hand and closing the door with his right.

Silence enveloped the room as he steadily walked over to her, first turning on the bedside lamp and filling the room with a little light before placing the first-aid kit on the bed covers and taking a seat on her left side, closer to the injury he intended to inspect. At that moment, Point hopped off of his shoulder and onto her bed, intending to explore the new area that it had never seen before.

Flower would have protested if it weren’t for Fukase talking to her again. In the same stern yet monotonous voice from before, he softly spoke to the guilt-ridden girl. “Let me see your hand,”

She obediently passed her left hand to him, ashamed of what she had done but compliant nonetheless. The teen simply sat there quietly like a child being scolded while Fukase gently unwrapped the white cloth coiling around her wrists. As the bandage grew thinner and thinner, the pulse on her wrist increased wildly, a side effect of putting too much pressure on an open wound and then suddenly releasing that pressure.

Even in the dimly lit room, the horizontal lines across her skin were as clear as day. Some of them were faint and copper-coloured, likely from previous attempts, but most of them were bright red. The warm colours of those wounds brought back Flower’s memories of the bathroom. _Red on her wrists. Red on her fingers. Red on her blade._

It was red… Just like his hair and like his eyes and his... glare...

But the male teen next to her didn’t seem to care about the number of cuts on her wrists. In fact, he barely commented on them. Instead, he gently placed her hand down on his lap and reached for the first-aid kit, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. He didn’t speak as he tore it open and held her hand again, tenderly wiping the cold, alcohol-filled cloth across her new cuts.

As much as she didn’t want to interrupt the silence, the sting was unbearable. “Ouch,”

Fukase stopped as soon as she started wincing. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you before I started doing this,” He murmured an apology before continuing, his strokes now gentler than before. “I’ll be more careful from now on,”

Hearing him sounding so genuine made her feel even more guilty. “You don’t have to-”

“But I want to,”

Flower didn’t know how to reply to that, and so she remained silent, instead watching as Point stumbled around her room, its field of vision only supported by the bedside lamp that could only shine light for such a distance away from it. Soon enough, the doll was tripping over its own feet and face-planting against the floor time and time again. It looked downright amusing, and maybe that was what it was trying to do on purpose. To make her laugh.

But… no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t.

“I’m gonna guess this is why you looked so tired earlier, huh…” The redhead mused softly, bringing her attention back to the sight of him bandaging her left wrist. At this point, he had disinfected all of her cuts and wiped away all the excess blood, some tissues with red splotches being placed on top of the pile of bloody bandages that she wore before. After applying some antiseptic cream on a cotton swab and placing it on her wounds, he began to methodically wrap her arm again with a fresh new roll of medical bandages, putting enough pressure so that it would stay on, but not too much pressure that would cut off all the blood flowing through her hand.

Right… Having a tight bandage around blood vessels not only cuts off blood flow, but also makes the wound itchy. She should’ve remembered that.

Meanwhile, Fukase gazed at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. When he figured that she wasn’t going to speak, he dropped it altogether. “Well, I’m not forcing you. You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to,”

  
  
  
  
  


“ … Looks like I can’t fool you, huh…”

After a moment of absolutely no noise at all, Flower finally spoke, her voice sounding muffled and apathetic. Even though she sounded more emotionless than usual, Fukase did not respond, keeping his focus on bandaging her arms.

“I can fool Piko, Miku, Miki… Rin, Len, Oliver… But not you,” She mused helplessly, almost pathetically. Like she was sick and tired of herself. Again, Fukase did not say anything as he finished dressing her wounds and gave her wrist a little pat like how a doctor would to commend a child for being brave through their treatment.

As he packed away the tube of antiseptic cream back into the first-aid kit and bundled up the trash pile of contaminated wrappers and tissues into a small plastic bag he brought with him, the girl raised her hand close to her and pressed her fingers against the new dressing he had done for her. She willed for her mouth to say ‘thank you’, willed for her heart to be filled with gratitude for his help, willed for herself to feel _anything_ -

But she felt nothing. And instead, she asked in a slightly suspicious tone that came out too naturally. “Why is that?”

Outside of the house, a lone autumn wind blew by, picking up a swirl of dried leaves on the ground, carrying them somewhere away from here. If only her problems could be blown away that easily, Flower thought to herself.

In front of her, Fukase let out a long sigh. The expression in his mismatched eyes gave her mixed responses; he looked as if he was worried, stern and sad for her all at once. “Flower…” He muttered, eyebrows furrowing as his lips curved into a frown. **“It takes one to know one,”**

She was flabbergasted. “What?”

“Why do you think _I_ wear bandages?”

“Is it not because of your… **oh** ,”

Of course... The reason why he did not freak out about her cuts, or how he knew how to treat them, or how he knew that he couldn’t just burst in front of her… All of that made sense if he had been in her position before.

The guilt building up within her grew. Flower had initially assumed that Fukase’s messed up skin was the reason why he wore his bandages. She was wrong. “I’m sorry,”

“Sorry for what?” He asked back in a tone void of malice. It would have felt like he was trying to refuse her pity had it not been for the dark shadow over his eyes. “It’s not your fault-” He paused, almost unsure of what he just said. _Better keep that under wraps, Fukase._ He mentally scolded himself. _Now isn’t the time to tell her your problems when she already can’t handle her own._

“Anyway,” He continued, attempting to change the subject while he picked up the first-aid kit, almost ready to leave the room. “I won’t tell the others about this, I promise-”

“No, I mean…” She could detect his intention to leave her, causing her to go on an auto-pilot mode for just a moment. For some reason, perhaps the fact that Fukase was now the only one who knows how vulnerable she was, she had the urge to keep him here with her. “I’m sorry… that you have to deal with me,”

He froze. That was very unexpected. “Flower…”

“You probably didn’t expect me to be… like this, did you?” She chuckled pittingfully, shifting uneasily on her bed. “Me, of all people, depressed and… suicidal. Cutting myself so much like it doesn’t hurt at all,” 

Fukase said nothing, only looking at her with a concerned expression on his face as she continued. “It just… I don’t know how to describe it, I just needed to feel something, anything to make sure that I’m still alive. That I’m not some hollow and empty person who can’t feel anything,”” She rambled, her hands fidgeting and brushing across each other as she remembered the times she held that blade in her hands. 

“Even though you probably can’t tell that ‘cause I’m so stone-faced all the time. I mean, look at me. Cold and stoic, always trying to stop you from pulling elaborate and useless pranks for no good reason, never truly caring about other people and now…” She stopped in the middle of her rant and took a deep breath, sounding both frustrated and fed up with her weak mind.

“Now you know why I act that way. Because I’m nothing more than a-”

_“Flower,”_

A warm sensation found its way to Flower’s senses, cueing her to look to her side and see Fukase’s left, completely bandaged hand placed on her shoulder. “ … Yes?”

_“ … Why didn’t you tell us?”_ His mismatched eyes were trained on her with the ferocity of a predator on its prey coupled with an unwavering sadness. “Why didn’t you tell us what’s wrong? We could’ve helped you…”

“Why didn’t I tell you? What _could_ you do?” She clicked her lips. “I mean-”

He cut her off with words that he was way too familiar with. “You feel like we can’t understand what you’re going through and that no one can help you, right?”

“How-”

“ **My** bandages, Flower,” As she was about to say something else, the male teen thought ahead and placed both of his hands on her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. “And exactly the reason why you should’ve told us something,”

At that, Fukase shifted closer to the white-haired girl, the contrast of his normal right eye and his ‘demonic’ left eye made clearer in the light of the bedside lamp. His fingers held her shoulders tightly as if he wanted to keep reminding her to focus on him and his words. And judging by the low tone of his voice, that assumption wasn’t wrong.

“Look, I know I’m always acting like a clown around everyone and I know you might not believe me. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t,” She had expected a chuckle from him, but all Fukase did was shrug at her, reminding her yet again that this side of him was being dead serious. “But Flower, if there’s one thing that I need you to take me seriously for…”

_“It’s that… I_ **_hate_ ** _to see you, or anyone for that matter, hurting yourself,”_

She found that hard to believe. It was probably due to her repressed depression steering her thought process. Despite barely receiving a proper response from her, the redhead continued with just as much conviction as he had before. “I might not know exactly what you’re going through, but I know how much of a mess you might feel inside. How much you want to just… disappear or feel something out of nothing…”

He had to stop himself for a second as his face drooped at the words he was saying. No doubt were they stirring up old memories for him. Flower almost wanted to stop him from speaking if it weren’t for Point climbing onto the bed after pulling himself up by latching onto the covers. The doll had quickly sensed that its master was feeling rather negative and as it always does during such situations, it swiftly sat on Fukase’s lap and hugged his torso with its small hands. The sad look on the teen’s face slowly brightened after receiving Point’s little act of affection, clearing his mind so that he could speak with Flower again.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I can’t fix anything, maybe I can’t make you feel better so quickly,” He admitted, shrugging his shoulder sheepishly again even though his facial expression remained serious. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m not gonna worry about you when you’re hurting yourself like this. Hate to lecture you, but you know it’s not healthy, right?”

“ … Yeah, I know…” She whispered unaudibly. Whether or not he heard her was completely up in the air; his grip on her shoulders did not change as he continued.

“I know you might be feeling like crap right now, but from one person to another, let me tell you; talking to someone about it always helps. It might not seem that way, but it’s true,” Knowing that her anxiety-filled mind wouldn’t believe such meaningless words pushed Fukase to explain further. “You can’t just bottle it up; it’ll eventually kill you if you’re not careful. And if you want…” He trailed off a little as his hands slid off her shoulders, his attention now tuned to the quickened beating of his heart.

“You can talk to me about it,”

At that, her mauve eyes lit up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s totally fine,” For the first time that night, the redhead gave Flower a small warm smile. “I promise that I won’t judge you and I won’t tell the others anything. It’ll be just between us,” He proclaimed as he held up his left hand like he was making an oath.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bo-”

“It’s not a bother at all,” He interrupted her with a shake of his head, the smile on his face unwavering. “Whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, I’ll be there for you, okay?”

“ … Fukase?”

“Yes Flo-?”

Before he could finish, Fukase found himself being tackled by the teenaged girl, her hands coiling around his body as she gave him a tight hug. The sheer realisation that she wasn’t alone in her fight, along with the relief of finally being comforted by someone had been too much for her to suppress. Though she managed to conceal it from him, the dams in Flower’s eyes had been cracking and chipping away the whole time, threatening to expose her vulnerability as Fukase was bandaging her wounds and comforting her.

But now, hearing that he wasn’t upset or mad or even disappointed in her made those dams crash and crumble into nothing, her pent-up fears and anxieties breaking through her barriers and flooding into reality in the form of tears. Though her initial tears came out in the form of shortened gasps, a single pat on her back was enough to elicit a loud sob from her mouth as she poured out all of her negative thoughts.

While she sobbed into his sweater, Fukase slowly wrapped his own arms around the crying girl, a comforting smile inscripted on his face as he held her gently and protectively in his embrace. Sure, he didn’t know what had caused her to become such a mental wreck, but that didn’t matter to him. Even if he couldn’t do anything to help her, the least he could do was give her a listening ear.

_Just like how he had someone to listen to him when he was struggling._ The redhead’s smile brightened at the memory. “So this was how it felt like to help someone just like you, huh…” He muttered to himself.

~~~~~~~

“Sorry that I messed up your sweater, Fukase,”

He simply waved it off like it was nothing. “It’s fine. I’ll just toss it into the washer and it’ll be as good as new,” He reassured her as he stood by her door, ready to head back to his room. “Anyway, you get some sleep, okay?”

Flower nodded. “Okay… And Fukase?”

He turned back to her, waiting for a reply.

“Thank you… For everything,”

“ … Anytime, Flower,”


End file.
